


A Thousand Dying Suns

by stefansgirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-graphic depictions of illness, Terminal Illness, implied sakuatsu towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29931060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefansgirl/pseuds/stefansgirl
Summary: He wants to tell him that his brother won’t be able to survive without his other half and that if he dies all things bright and beautiful will die with him.But he watches Atsumu closer, realizes that his hair lays against the pillow like that because it’s limp and frail, that his skin is so pale not because he’s an angel, but because he’s sick and hurt and dying, and the words die on his tongue.He decides it’s not fair to ask Atsumu to stay. Not when he can't even stay with him.or, Sakusa is an angel of death and Atsumu lives a lifetime of close calls
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 127





	A Thousand Dying Suns

They first meet when Atsumu is seven. 

There’s a group of doctors standing above him, trying to shock the life back into him. His heart is failing. The monitor is flatlining. They don’t know if he’ll make it.

Kiyoomi leans in close and presses two fingers to the center of his forehead. The beeps steady. Everyone in the room lets out a sigh of relief. 

The doctors say it’s a miracle but Kiyoomi knows better than that. 

He watches him through the night, sits at his bedside and wills the life back into him. The boy’s family surrounds him—holding each other, crying—but none of them notice Kiyoomi. He’s invisible to those who haven’t been touched by the merciless hands of death. 

There’s a young boy Atsumu’s age curled up on the large chair in the corner of the room, asleep. His eyes are swollen, his nose red. His breath leaves him in small puffs of air. He’s strong, healthy. Kiyoomi suspects he’ll live to see old age. 

Atsumu isn’t so lucky. It’s too early to tell, but his lifeline is less radiant, the light in his eyes a little dimmer. 

Kiyoomi suspects the boys will be separated much earlier than either of them would like. 

It’s when his parents leave the room to talk to the doctors that Atsumu finally wakes. He looks around for a moment, disoriented, before his eyes land on Kiyoomi. 

“Who are you?” the boy croaks out. 

After an eternity of doing this, Kiyoomi still can’t tell how someone will react. Some people break down in tears, some call for doctors and nurses and claim that they’re seeing things. These people never welcome death easily, and because of that, their last moments aren’t easy. 

With children, though, it’s simpler. They are more accepting, more hopeful. More kind to the world than the world is to them. 

“You’re my responsibility now, Atsumu. I’m here to make sure you stay alive.”

His little eyebrows pull into a furrow. “Are you God?” 

“There is no god, dear boy. Only life and death.” 

“Which are you?” 

Kiyoomi’s eyebrows quirk up. 

“I am neither and both.”

“What?” The furrow in his brow deepens. It’s too large a concept for him to understand, but Kiyoomi thinks he himself doesn’t completely understand it at times either. 

He sighs. “You can call me Kiyoomi.” 

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu tests out. His voice is still young, childlike, but he speaks like someone who has seen too much at his age. “Am I gonna die?” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t assure the boy that he’ll be okay. Doesn’t guarantee that he won’t die. He’s never been one to make false promises. 

He gives the best that he can offer. “I’ll do my best to keep you alive.” 

This seems to be enough for Atsumu. He nods and lays back against his pillow. 

“Tsumu?” 

The other boy that was curled up in the chair is awake now. He squints his eyes up at Atsumu. 

“Who are ya talkin’ to?” 

Atsumu watches Kiyoomi for another second before he turns to his brother. “No one, Samu. Go back to sleep.” 

“You go back to sleep. The doctors said ya need rest.” 

Atsumu says nothing. He pulls open the sheets on his hospital bed, a silent invitation. His brother wastes no time in crawling in next to Atsumu.

Kiyoomi watches them pull each other close. As soon as he wraps his arms around him, Atsumu’s brother is crying into his shoulder, silent sobs racking his little body. 

“I thought ya were gonna die, Tsumu.” 

Atsumu continues to stare at Kiyoomi. “Not yet, Samu.” 

“Ya better never die, idiot. I’ll kill ya if ya do.” 

Atsumu finally turns towards his brother. “Ya can’t kill me if I’m already dead.” He flicks him on the forehead, but pulls him closer to his chest anyway. 

They fall asleep like that. 

The next time he sees Atsumu, it’s four years later. 

This time, he doesn’t have the luxury of being in a hospital. He’s on the floor of his bathroom, coughing up blood. 

His mother kneels beside him, one hand rubbing his back soothingly and the other holding the phone up to her ear. She’s talking to a police operator. Osamu stands in the doorway, fists clenched and silent tears running down his face. 

His mother tells the operator that this has happened 3 times in the past month. They assume it’s just another bout of sickness that he’ll overcome in the next week. 

They don’t know that he’s about to die. 

Kiyoomi crouches down on Atsumu’s other side. When Atsumu sees him, he lets out a choked whimper, eyes wide and fearful. He brings his hands up to his throat, trying to claw away the feeling of strangulation. 

He knows he’s about to die. 

Kiyoomi brings two fingers to his forehead again. Atsumu stops coughing and starts shaking violently. His mother screams and Osamu runs over to Atsumu’s side. 

The last thing Kiyoomi sees before Atsumu’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he passes out against the floor is the silent relief wash over him. 

When Atsumu finally wakes, he looks around the room, panicked, before his eyes land on Kiyoomi and he relaxes. 

“Omi,” he mumbles. His voice is scratchy, throat raw. 

“How are you feeling, Atsumu?” 

They’re in Atsumu’s bedroom now. He’s propped against a pile of pillows and Kiyoomi sits at his bedside. His mother had kicked Osamu out of the room so Atsumu could get some rest, leaving the two of them to talk freely. 

“Not good.” 

“That’s expected. You almost died.” 

“And ya expect me to believe that you saved me?” 

“I did save you.”

“How do I know that I didn’t just make you up to make all this a little bit easier? What if I’m sick in the head, too?” 

Atsumu is eleven now. The way he sees the world has changed as he’s grown older. He’s more doubtful, less willing to accept what doesn’t have a plausible explanation. 

Kiyoomi shrugs. “Whether you choose to believe in me or not doesn’t change the fact that I’m real.” 

“I just feel like all that stuff—you saving me—is too good to be true.” 

“The world hasn’t been fair to you, Atsumu. You should accept whatever kindness it offers you, no matter how fake it seems.” 

Atsumu stares at him for another minute. “Can I touch you? So I know that yer really here.” 

Kiyoomi holds a hand out for him to grasp. Atsumu’s fingers are shaking, his grip weak, but still, he holds on as tightly as he can. 

He relaxes at the contact. He closes his eyes and lays back against his pillows. 

“Omi-kun?” he asks after a minute of silence. 

“Hm?” 

“Is there any way to make it hurt less?” 

Kiyoomi notices there’s tears trailing down the sides of his face and onto the pillow. 

“There’s no way, dear boy. I can't fix you. I can only keep you alive until it is your time to die.” 

Atsumu opens his eyes, blinks at him through wet lashes. “That’s kinda cruel dontcha think?” 

Kiyoomi nods. “The purest souls are dealt the cruelest punishments. The world has a way of doing that.” 

“The world did two things right, though.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It gave me Samu and it gave me you.” 

Kiyoomi feels the tiniest of smiles spread across his face. He raises a brow. “Am I on par with your brother now?” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“Am I as important to you as your brother is?” 

Atsumu considers this for a moment. “Well, no. But ya make me feel better. That’s what matters.” 

“Do I?” 

Atsumu nods. “Even though yer only here when bad things happen, I still feel safe whenever yer around.” 

Kiyoomi raises a brow again. “Why is that?” 

“Because I know no matter what you’ll protect me.” A small smile spreads across his face. “And since I know yer real now, I guess that makes ya my guardian angel.” He says it with the innocence that only a child can possess. 

Kiyoomi studies him for a minute. 

“I won't always protect you. There will come a time when I will take your life instead of saving it.”

Atsumu shrugs. “But I still know ya did yer best to save me when ya had to.” 

“You’re right. I will always do my best.” 

“Can ya promise me one thing, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t make promises. They’re misleading and nearly impossible to keep and they give troubled souls too much hope. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t make promises yet he finds himself nodding anyway. 

“Promise me when the time comes that ya gotta let me die, you’ll let me know before, okay? I don’t wanna think that ya showed up to save me only for ya to let me go.” He takes a deep breath. “So promise me, when it’s my time to actually die, you’ll let me know.” 

He pulls his hand away from Kiyoomi’s and sticks out his smallest finger instead, wiggling it in the air. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t make promises yet here he is, interlocking his pinky finger with Atsumu’s smaller one. 

“I promise.” 

It’s another five years until their paths cross again. Atsumu is sixteen now. He’s a petulant boy, but Kiyoomi thinks after everything the world has done to him, his attitude is justified.

This time, it’s pneumonia that has brought Atsumu knocking on death’s door. In his already fragile state, it was too much for his body to handle and Kiyoomi had saved him with another press of his fingers. 

When Atsumu wakes, Kiyoomi almost doesn’t realize it happens. He keeps his head forward, body still. If it wasn’t for the flutter of his lashes, Kiyoomi would still think he’s asleep. 

“Atsumu?” 

He’s met with silence. 

“Atsumu,” he calls a little louder. “How are you feeling?” 

This gets Atsumu’s attention. He opens his eyes and immediately fixes Kiyoomi with a glare. 

“Cut the bullshit, Kiyoomi-kun.” His voice is raspy, barely there, but there’s still enough ice in it to make Kiyoomi shiver. 

He blinks. This is the first time Atsumu has addressed him so formally. 

“Did I do something to upset you, Atsumu?” 

“Quite the opposite. You did yer job, okay? I’m still alive. You can leave now.” 

“You know I never leave until you’re feeling better.” 

“Have ya ever considered the fact that maybe I don’t want ya here.” 

The way he spits it out is so different from anything Kiyoomi has ever heard him say. He has the fleeting thought that these harsh syllables aren’t suited for Atsumu’s tongue. 

“The last time we saw each other you were grateful for my assistance.” 

“The last time we saw each other I was a fucking kid,” Atsumu yells, and immediately starts coughing. 

He grabs onto the handle on the side of the hospital bed. His other hand comes up to his mouth to quiet his coughs. When he pulls it away, there’s blood on his fist. 

Kiyoomi sighs and gets up to hand Atsumu the cup of water on the bedside table. He wipes the blood away then supports the back of Atsumu’s head with one hand, holding the cup up to his mouth with the other. Atsumu glares at him but wraps his lips around the straw, anyway. 

When he finishes drinking he pushes the cup away and leans back against his pillows. His breaths come out shallow. 

Kiyoomi settles back in his chair. “Do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?” 

“I don’t wanna see ya anymore.” 

“That’s not up to either of us, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu sighs and crosses his arms but doesn’t say anything else. Kiyoomi watches him quietly. 

After a minute, he says, “Yer keepin’ me alive like an animal for slaughter.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s not my choice to keep you alive. Until it’s your time, I can't do anything else.” 

Atsumu turns to him with a glare. “You could fix me.” 

“You know I can’t.” 

Atsumu stares at him for another minute, eyes red rimmed and watery. 

“I hate you,” he says, and Kiyoomi thinks he really means it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The next time Kiyoomi sees him it’s a month later. Atsumu’s condition is worsening, the length of time between his episodes shortening. 

They’re in the hospital again. Kiyoomi wonders when the last time Atsumu saw the inside of his bedroom was. 

He seems to be upset again but this time it’s not directed at Kiyoomi. 

“Atsumu? What’s wrong?” 

He’s quiet for a moment before he grumbles, “Me an' Samu got in a fight.” 

Kiyoomi stops, stares at the bruise on Atsumu’s pale cheek. “He did that to you?” 

“Don’t act like he killed me.” Atsumu scoffs. “I did worse to him.” 

Kiyoomi takes a seat next to Atsumu’s hospital bed. 

“Why did you guys fight?” 

Atsumu keeps his arms crossed and his eyes directed forwards. Kiyoomi watches him. The room is quiet save for the beeping of the machines and Atsumu’s labored breathing. Finally, he sighs and uncrosses his arms. 

“He’s saying I’m not trying hard enough. That I’m not fighting to stay alive. They act like I _want_ this. Like I chose to be like this.” 

“Are you?” 

Atsumu turns to him. “Am I what?” 

“Trying hard enough?” 

He expects Atsumu to scream at him, wide eyed and indignant, for implying that he’s not fighting to be alive. 

Instead, Atsumu watches him quietly. “The first time we met you said you were gonna make sure I stayed alive.”

“I did.” Kiyoomi nods. “That’s still my goal.” 

Atsumu turns around so his back is to Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi thinks that’s the end of their conversation and he gets ready to leave. Before he can, though, Atsumu’s voice breaks through the quiet of the room. 

“Sometimes I wish you had just let me die that night.” 

In the years that Kiyoomi has known him, the closest Atsumu comes to death is when he’s 19. 

He’s coding again, but this time when Kiyoomi presses his fingers to Atsumu’s forehead, it doesn’t stop. 

The doctors rip open his hospital gown and press the paddles to his chest. They shock him once. Twice. Three times. 

He doesn’t wake. 

Kiyoomi can hear Osamu’s screams outside of the hospital room. There’s someone out there holding him back, stopping him from being with his brother in what they think are his final moments. 

The doctors switch to manual cpr but Kiyoomi ignores them. He sticks his hand right through theirs and places it over Atsumu’s heart. The beats are so faint Kiyoomi almost doesn’t feel them at all. 

As Atsumu’s heart trembles against his fingers, he’s suddenly reminded of the feeling of a dying bird, fragile and weak. 

Kiyoomi’s fingers press harder into Atsumu’s skin and all at once, he stops moving. He slumps back against the bed, motionless, and the beeps on the monitor slowly steady. 

The doctor who was leading the cpr steps back, breathing heavily. The nurses redress Atsumu and leave him to sleep. 

Kiyoomi takes a seat and waits. 

When Atsumu finally wakes, it takes him a minute to open his eyes and another to recognize Kiyoomi. 

Half his body is trapped under Osamu’s, constricting his movement. Both of them are curled up on Atsumu’s hospital bed. 

Osamu hasn’t left his side since he was allowed back in the room. 

“Omi,” he tries to say, but it comes out broken. He immediately starts coughing, dry and wheezing, and the sound makes Kiyoomi wince.

Osamu eyes shoot open. He scrambles to retrieve the cup of water on Atsumu’s bedside table and holds the straw up to his lips so he can drink. 

When Atsumu calms down and both boys are laying back against the bed, Kiyoomi approaches. Atsumu shoots a worried glance towards Osamu, but Kiyoomi brings a finger to his own lips. 

“Don’t try to speak, Atsumu. I don’t have much time so just listen to what I have to say.” 

Atsumu nods. 

“The last time we spoke you wished for death.” 

Atsumu opens his mouth to say something but Kiyoomi stops him. 

“I don’t blame you for that. Anyone in your situation would long for it at some point. I can't tell you if you’ll ever get better. I can't tell you how much longer you have left. I can't tell you if you’ll even live to see tomorrow.” 

Atsumu’s jaw clenches, his gaze hardening. 

“What I can tell you,” Kiyoomi continues, “Is that you have a choice in this world. You have a choice to keep fighting.” 

Atsumu rolls his eyes and Kiyoomi can practically hear him say _stop with all that save-the-world bullshit, omi-kun._

“I mean it, Atsumu. All those times you almost died, it wasn’t only me who kept you alive. Do you think I could save the soul of someone who doesn’t truly want to be here?” 

Atsumu is quiet for a moment before he shakes his head. 

“You deserve as much credit for saving your life as I do. Living is a struggle. Living with your illness is even harder. Pride yourself on the fact that you are alive.” 

Kiyoomi can see the tears burning behind Atsumu’s eyes. 

“And know that when you do decide to die, that’s not you giving up. You’ve lived strongly and beautifully, Atsumu. When you decide to rest, it will be just as strong and just as beautiful.” 

Atsumu is crying openly now, fat tears streaming down his face and into the pillow. When a tear hits Osamu’s face, he looks up, brows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong, Tsumu?” 

Atsumu shakes his head. “Nothing.” But a minute later, he’s pulling Osamu closer to him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, Samu.” 

“I—” Osamu cuts off, stares at Atsumu in concern. “Is everythin’ okay?” 

Atsumu nods, and presses his nose into the crook of Osamu’s neck. “I was just thinkin’ I probably don’t say that enough.” 

Osamu watches him for another second before he wraps his arms around Atsumu. 

“I love you, too.” 

Atsumu is 23 when he decides he wants to die. 

Kiyoomi sits at his hospital bed, listening to the steady beeps of the heart monitor. He watches nurses and doctors run in and out, writing down his stats, taking blood samples, washing him, changing him, feeding him. 

Atsumu has been here for eight months. The machines are the only things keeping him alive now. 

Osamu is here everyday. Today, he’s the one feeding Atsumu. He holds the spoon up to Atsumu’s lips, strokes the hair out of his face, in a quiet murmur, tells him about everything going on in his life. 

It’s become a common routine for them. 

When Atsumu’s eyes leak tears, Osamu wipes them away. When he can't keep down his meals, Osamu rubs his back while he throws up. When he coughs up blood, Osamu cleans the red off his face. 

He thinks, if Osamu didn’t love his brother so much, it would all be too much for one person to handle. 

When Osamu leaves the hospital that night, Atsumu finally acknowledges Kiyoomi’s presence. 

“Omi?” He says it in the quietest of whispers, his voice more a rasp than anything else. 

“Hm?”

“I know ya said I have a choice. That I can choose to keep on fighting.” 

He cracks an eye open, blinks a couple times, and finds Kiyoomi’s gaze. 

“The truth is I dunno if I can keep goin’. I’m thinkin’ it’s easier if I let go.” 

Kiyoomi watches him for a moment. Takes in his sunken eyes, the deep hollows of his cheeks, the grey tint to his skin. He feels something break inside him at the defeated way Atsumu says this, at the relief that seeps into his voice when he imagines death. 

He reaches a hand up to stroke the limp strands of hair off Atsumu’s forehead. 

“Sleep now, Atsumu. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

Atsumu lets his eyes fall shut again. He smiles sadly. “That’s the thing, Omi. You won’t be here in the morning. Yer only here when things are difficult and it hurts.” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything at all. 

When Atsumu opens his eyes that morning, the sight before him makes his eyes shine. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, and Kiyoomi doesn’t miss the relief in his voice. “It’s the morning and you’re still here.” 

Kiyoomi watches him for a moment. His blonde hair is laid out on the pillow like a halo, his skin almost as pale as the bedsheets. 

He doesn’t know if angels exist or not but he has the fleeting thought that he’s in the presence of one right now. 

“Do you remember the promise I made to you, Atsumu?” 

“I couldn’t forget it if I tried.” 

Kiyoomi falls quiet again. 

“Say it, Omi. I need to hear ya say it.” 

Kiyoomi swallows down the tightness in his throat and in a steady voice says, “It’s your time, dear boy.” 

The smallest of smiles spread across Atsumu’s face. “I’m not a kid anymore, Omi. You don’t hafta call me that.” 

“No matter your age, Atsumu, you’ll always be the dearest thing I’ve come to know.” 

And it’s then that Kiyoomi realizes he’s selfish. He wants to tell Atsumu to keep fighting. He wants to tell him there’s a whole world out there for him and he has to stick around long enough to see it. 

He wants to say that his brother won’t be able to survive without his other half and that if he dies all things bright and beautiful will die with him. 

But he watches Atsumu closer, realizes that his hair lays against the pillow like that because it’s limp and frail, that his skin is so pale not because he’s an angel, but because he’s sick and hurt and dying, and the words die on his tongue. 

He decides it’s not fair to ask Atsumu to stay. Not when he can't even stay with him. 

“You’ve fought enough, Atsumu. It’s time for you to rest now.” 

“I have to—” he’s broken off by a weak cough. “I still have to talk to Samu.” 

“He went down to get food. He should be back soon.” 

Atsumu nods. Kiyoomi knows he can hold on until then, knows that he’d do anything for his brother after all his brother has done for him. 

While they wait, the two of them sit in silence. Kiyoomi holds Atsumu’s hand in his, a comforting touch to let him know that he’s not alone, just like he did all those years ago. It’s another five minutes before Osamu is coming through the door. 

“Tsumu, I—” he stops, blinks, drops the bag that was in his hands. “Who is that.” 

Kiyoomi ignores him and turns to Atsumu. “He can see me?” 

“Of course he can. I’m dyin’, Omi-kun. That means a part of him is dyin’, too.” 

“Tsumu, what do you mean. Who said yer dying? Who the fuck is this?” 

Osamu approaches the bed and sits at Atsumu’s other side. He regards Kiyoomi with caution. 

“He’s a friend, Samu. He just wanted to come say bye.” 

“Where was your friend all those other times?” Osamu spits. “And what do ya mean bye? What’s going on?” 

Kiyoomi knows not to take his harsh words personally. Over the years he’s seen Osamu grow more and more protective of Atsumu. 

“He was here, Samu.” Atsumu’s hand tightens around Kiyoomi’s. “In his own way, he was here.” 

Osamu’s eyes flicker down to their intertwined hands, and Kiyoomi sees the moment the realization hits him. 

“What’s going on?” he asks again, voice strained, though Kiyoomi knows a part of him already knows the answer to that. 

Atsumu takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Samu, I think it’s time for me to go,” he whispers. 

“Go?” Osamu asks in disbelief. “Go where?” 

“Samu,” Atsumu says. 

“No, don’t ‘Samu’ me. You’re not goin’ anywhere. You’re staying right here, okay?” 

“Samu,” he says again, pleading, and suddenly all the fight leaves Osamu. His face crumbles and he begins to cry. 

“Atsumu, don't do this. Don’t leave me. We were born together. We came into this world together. You’re supposed to be by my side forever. You can't back out now.” 

“Samu,” he says slowly. His breathing is labored, voice shaky. “I tried. I’m sorry, I really tried.” 

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were perfect. You—” Osamu breaks off, scrubs a hand over his face to wipe away his tears. “Fuck,” he screams, turns to Kiyoomi. “Can’t you fucking do something?” 

Kiyoomi’s silence is answer enough. 

“Do something you asshole.” Osamu grabs Kiyoomi by the collar, shakes him until Kiyoomi feels like he’s gonna be sick. “Fix him.” 

Atsumu’s hand clutches at Osamu’s shirt weakly, and that’s what makes him finally release Kiyoomi. 

“Stop it, Samu. He’s saved me enough.” 

Osamu brings his attention back to Atsumu. 

“Come on, Tsumu,” he sits on the bed next to Atsumu and grabs his hand, holding it between both of his. “You’ve made it this far. I know you can keep going. I know you can get better.” 

“I’m tired, Samu,” he whispers, each word coming out in slurred syllables. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open now. “I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry.” 

Osamu shakes his head. “You’re so strong. So fucking strong, Tsumu. You didn’t deserve any of this bullshit.” He tucks Atsumu’s head under his chin, rubbing his back with the hand that isn't still holding Atsumu’s. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It should’ve been me.” 

Atsumu makes a weak noise of protest but isn't able to say anything else. 

“Who am I gonna be if you’re gone?” Osamu pulls Atsumu back, looks him in the eye. He brings a hand up to stroke his cheek. “We’re a team, Tsumu. We belong together. I don’t wanna know a version of myself that isn’t your brother.” 

Kiyoomi wants to tell him that he’ll always be his brother. No matter what realm they’re in or how many lifetimes separate the two of them, they’ll always be brothers. Death isn’t enough to break what they have. Kiyoomi knows this for a fact. 

He doesn’t say it because he thinks Osamu already knows. 

“Please, Tsumu, I love you so much.” He’s begging through broken sobs now, clutching onto Atsumu’s hand like it’s his lifeline. “I can't do this. I don’t know how to live without you.” 

With each passing breath, the life seems to seep out of Atsumu’s features. His hand grows limp in Kiyoomi’s hold. 

Osamu must notice it, too, because his sobs turn into wails, each cry being pulled from his body violently. He grabs Atsumu’s face in his hands, begging him not to go. 

This time, when the monitor starts coding, Kiyoomi doesn’t press his fingers to Atsumu’s forehead. He releases Atsumu’s hand and lets it fall limp against the bed. 

There are hands on Atsumu’s chest, trying to bring the life back to him, but they’re not Kiyoomi’s. 

Osamu clutches at his brother’s chest, begging his heart to keep beating. There are doctors pouring into the room now. They try to pull Osamu off but he’s hysterical, latching onto Atsumu and crying like his world is ending. 

Kiyoomi supposes it is in a way. 

He pushes past the doctors until he’s at Atsumu’s side. He spares a glance at Osamu who has his face buried in Atsumu’s chest. 

Kiyoomi leans in close and presses a soft kiss to Atsumu’s temple. “You deserve the world, Atsumu,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that.”

Atsumu closes his eyes for the last time to the sound of Osamu’s broken sobs and the feeling of Kiyoomi’s lips against his skin. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this as a twitter thread but it ended up being like a hundred tweets so I just decided to post it on ao3 LOL. thank you guys for reading, so sorry I killed atsumu :(( kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <33 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/atsum00s)


End file.
